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fcdesty :  a  Comedy  in 
)ne  Act :  by  Paul  Her- 
ieu :  Translated  by  Bar- 
^tt  H.  Clark 


amuel  French :  Publisher 

30  West  Thirty-eighth  St. :  New  York 

LONDON 

Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street,  Strand 
PRICE  TWENTY-FIVE  CENTS 


THE  WORLD'S  BEST  PLAYS 

BY  CELEBRATED  EUROPEAN  AUTHORS 

BARRETT  H.  CLARK 


GENERAL   EDITOR 


Modesty :  a  Comedy  in 
One  Act :  by  Paul  Her- 
vieu :  Translated  by  Bar- 
rett H.  Clark 


Samuel  French :  Publisher 

28-30  West  Thirty-eighth  St. :  New  York 

LONDON 

Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

36  Southampton  Street,  Strand 


>^ 


CoPYRiGII?     1915. 
By    SAMUEL    FRENCH 


PAUL  HERVIEU 

Paul  Hervieu  (born  in  1857  at  Neuilly-on-the- 
Seine)  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  contemporary 
French  dramatists.  His  plays — "  The  Labyrinth," 
"  The  Passing  of  the  Torch  "  and  "  In  Chains  "  are 
among  the  best — are  thesis  plays  of  the  most  pro- 
nounced type,  aimed  for  the  most  part  against 
legal  and  social  abuses.  Hervieu  is  noted  for  his 
reticent  and  sober  treatment  of  tragedy,  but  his 
little  one-act  play,  "  Modesty  ",  proves  that  he  has  a 
delicate  sense  of  humor  and  the  ability  to  satirize 
in  a  light  and  graceful  way  some  of  the  weaker  ele 
ments  of  human  nature. 

This  little  play  contains  no  difficulties  as  to  stag- 
ing, costuming,  or  stage  business. 


ivi203377 


MODESTY 

PERSONS  IN  THE  PLAY 

Jacques 

Albert 

Henriette 

Scene:     The  parlor  in   Henriette's   apartment, 
Paris. 

Time:    The  present. 

6 


^^^^^  "^^  2  ;w^r  >^  ^ 


C4 


MODESTY 


Scene:  A  parlor.  Entrance  center;  sofa,  chairs, 
writing-desk,  Jacques  and  Henriette  come 
in,  center,  as  from  dinner,  Henriette  in  a  sort 
of  hall  costume,  Jacques  in  evening  dress. 
They  come  down-stage. 

Henriette.  Is  what  you  have  to  tell  me  so 
terribly  embarrassing  ? 

Jacques.    You  can  easily  guess  what  it  is. 

Henriette.  Not  at  all !  You're  so  long  about  it 
you  make  me  weary;  come  to  the  point. 

Jacques.  Very  well.  I'll  risk  all  at  a  stroke! 
My  dear  Henriette,  we  are  cousins.  I  am  unmar- 
ried, you  are  a  widow.  Will  you — will  you  be  my 
wife? 

Henriette.  Oh,  my  dear  Jacques,  what  are  you 
thinking  of?  We  were  such  good  friends!  And 
now  you're  going  to  be  angry  with  me. 

Jacques.    Why  ? 

Henriette.  Because  I'm  not  going  to  give  you 
the  answer  you'd  like. 

Jacques.  You  don't — you  don't  think  I'd  make 
a  good  husband? 

Henriette.    Frankly,  no. 

Jacques.    I  don't  please  you? 

Henriette.  As  a  cousin  you  are  charming ;  as  a 
husband  you  would  be  quite  impossible. 

Jacques.    What  have  you  against  me? 
7 


8  MODESTY 

Henriette.  Nothing  for  which  you're  to  blame. 
It  is  solely  the  fault  of  my  character;  that  forces 
me  to  refuse  you. 

Jacques.    And  yet  I  can't  see  why  you ? 

Henriette.  (With  an  air  of  great  importance) 
A  great  change  is  taking  place  in  the  hearts  of 
women.  We  have  resolved  henceforward  not  to  be 
treated  as  dolls,  but  as  creatures  of  reason.  As  for 
me,  I  am  most  unfortunate,  for  nobody  ever  did 
anything  but  flatter  me.  I  have  always  been  too 
self-satisfied,  too 

Jacques.  You  have  always  been  the  most  charm- 
ing of  women,  the  most 

Henriette.  Stop !  It's  exactly  that  sort  of  ex- 
aggeration that  has  begun  to  make  me  so  certain  of 
myself.  I  want  you  to  understand  once  for  all, 
Jacques :  I  have  a  conscience,  and  it  is  beginning  to 
develop.     I  have  taken  important  resolutions. 

Jacques.    What  do  you  mean? 

Henriette.  I  have  resolved  to  better  myself,  to 
raise  my  moral  and  intellectual  standard,  and  to  do 
that  I  need  to  be  guided,  criticised 

Jacques.  But  you  already  possess  every  im- 
aginable good  quality:  you  are  charitable,  elegant, 
refined 

Henriette.  (Slightly  annoyed)  Please! 
(Turns  away  and  sits  dozvn  on  the  settee.  Jacques 
addresses  her  from  behind  the  chair) 

Jacques,    You  are  spirituelle,  discreet,  witty 

Henriette.  The  same  old  words!  Everybody 
tells  me  that.  I  want  to  be  preached  to,  contra- 
dicted, scolded! 

Jacques.    You  could  never  stand  that. 

Henriette.  Yes,  I  could.  I  should  be  only  too 
happy  to  profit  by  the  criticism.  It  would  inspire 
me. 

Jacques.  I'd  like  to  see  a  man  with  the  audacity 
to  criticise  you  to  your  face! 


MODESTY  9 

/ 

Henriette.  That  is  enough!  I  trust  you  are 
aware  that  you  are  not  the  person  to  exercise  this 
commanding  influence? 

Jacques,  How  could  I?  Everything  about  you 
pleases  me.     It  can  never  be  otherwise. 

Henriette.  How  interesting!  •  That's  the  very 
reason  T  rejected  your  proposal  at  once.  I  shan't 
marry  until  I  am  certain  that  I  shall  not  be  con- 
tinually pestered  with  compliments  and  flattery  and 
submission.  The  man  who  marries  me  shall  make 
it  his  business  to  remind  me  of  my  shortcomings, 
and  correct  all  my  mistakes.  He  must  give  me  the 
assurance  that  I  am  bettering  myself. 

Jacques.  And  this — husband — you've  found  him 
already,  have  you? 

Henriette.     What?     Oh,  who  knows? 

Jacques.    Perhaps  it's — Albert? 

Henriette.     Perhaps  it  is.     What  of  it? 

Jacques.    Really ! 

Henriette.    You  want  me  to  speak  quite  openly  ? 

Jacques.    Of  course. 

Henriette.  Then — you  wouldn't  be  offended  if 
I  said  something  nice  about  Albert? 

(Jacques  brings  the  chair  which  is  by  the  desk, 
down  center,  facing  Henriette.) 

Jacques.    Why,  he's  my  friend! 

Henriette.    Do  you  like  him? 

Jacques.     Certainly. 

Henriette.    Well,  what  would  you  say  of  him? 

Jacques.  (Trying  to  be  fair)  I'd  trust  him 
with  money.    J've  never  heard  he  was  a  thief. 

Henriette.    But  in  other  respects? 

Jacques.  {Still  conscientious)  I  believe  him  to 
be  a  man  somewhat — somewhat 

Henriette.     Wilful?     Headstrong? 

Jacques.     Um — uncultured,  let  us  say. 


10  MODESTY 

Henriette.  As  you  like — but  for  my  part,  I 
find  his  frankness  inspires  absolute  confidence.  He 
knows  how  to  be  severe  at  times 

Jacques.  You're  mistaken  about  that;  that's 
only  simple  brute  force.  Go  to  the  Jardin  des 
Plant es:  the  ostrich,  the  boa  constrictor,  the  rhinoc- 
eros, all  produce  the  same  effect  on  you  as  your 
Albert 

Henriette.  My  Albert?  My  Albert?  Oh, 
I  don't  appropriate  him  so  quickly  as  all  that.  PJis 
qualifications  as  censor  are  not  yet  entirely  evident 
to  me. 

(Jacques  rises  and  approaches  Henriette,   who 
maintains  an  air  of  cold  dignity.) 

Jacques.  For  Heaven's  sake,  Henriette,  stop  this 
nonsense ! 

Henriette.     What  nonsense? 

Jacques.  Tell  me  you  are  only  playing  with 
me,  that  you  only  wanted  to  put  my  love  to  the 
test!  To  make  me  jealous!  To  torture  me!  You 
have  succeeded.     Stop  it,  for  Heaven's  sake ! 

Henriette.  My  dear  friend,  I  am  sorry  for 
you.  I  really  wish  I  could  help  you,  but  I  cannot. 
I  have  given  you  a  perfect  description  of  the  hus- 
band I  should  choose,  and  I  am  heart-broken  that 
you  bear  so  distant  a  resemblance  to  him. 

Jacques.  Only  promise  me  that  you  will  think 
over  your  decision. 

Henriette.     It  is  better  to  stop  at  once. 

Jacques.    Don't  send  me  away.    Don't  leave  me ! 

Henriette.  If  I  didn't,  I  might  give  you  false 
hopes.  I  have  only  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  never 
consent  to  be  the  wife  of  a  man  who  cannot  be  the 
severest  of  censors. 

Jacques.     (Kneeling)     I  beg  you! 

Henriette.     No,   no,  no,  Jacques!     Spare  me 


MODESTY  II 

that.    (A  telephone  rings  in  the  next  room)    There's 
the  'phone! 
Jacques.    Don't  go! 

(Henriette  rises  hastily  and  goes  to  door.    Jacques 
tries  to  stop  her.) 

Henkiette.  I  must.  Go  away,  I  tell  you.  I'll 
be  angry  if  I  find  you  here  when  I  return. 

Jacques.     Henriette ! 

Henriette.  (Coming  down  left  to  table)  Not 
now !     Please,  Jacques.     (She  goes  out) 

Jacques.  No,  I  can't  leave  it  that  way.  I  am 
the  husband  to  make  her  happy.  But  how?  That 
is  the  question.     (A  pause)     Ah,  Albert! 

(Enter  Albert.    He  shakes  hands  zvith  Jacques.) 

Albert.    How  are  you,  rival? 

Jacques.  (Gravely)  My  friend,  we  are  no 
longer  rivals. 

Albert.    How's  that  ? 

Jacques.  I  have  just  had  a  talk  with  Henriette ; 
she  won't  marry  either  one  of  us,  that's  clear. 

Albert.     Did  she  mention  me? 

Jacques.    Casually. 

(Both  sit  down,  Albert  on  the  sofa,  Jacques  on  a 
chair  near  it.) 

Albert.    What  did  she  say? 

Jacques.  Oh,  I  wouldn't  repeat  it;  it  wouldn't 
be  friendly. 

Albert.     1  must  know. 

Jacques.  Very  well,  then :  she  said  that  you  had 
not  succeeded — nor  I — in  finding  the  way  to  her 
heart.  Between  you  and  me,  we  have  a  high-minded 
woman   to   deal   with,   a   philosopher   who   detests 


12  MODESTY 

flattery.  It  seems  you  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
paying  her  compliments? 

Albert.     I?     I  never  make  compliments. 

Jacques.  Whatever  you  did,  she  didn't  like  it. 
Moreover — since  you  want  the  whole  truth — you 
seem  to  her  a  bit — ridiculous. 

Albert.    I  beg  your  pardon  ? 

Jacques.  The  very  word  she  used:  ridiculous. 
She  wants  a  husband  who  will  act  as  a  sort  of  con- 
sciei.'ce-pilot.  Evidently,  you  haven't  appealed  to 
her  in  that  capacity. 

Albert.  But  sometimes  I  used  to  be  rather 
sharp  with  her 

Jacques.  You  did  it  too  daintily,  perhaps ;  you 
must  have  lacked  severity.  I'll  wager  you  smiled, 
instead  of  scowled — that  would  have  been  fatal ! 

Albert.     I  don't  understand? 

Jacques.  Don't  you  see  ?  Henriette  is  a  singular 
woman;  to  get  her,  you  must  tell  her  that  you 
don't  like  her — her  pride  demands  it !  Tell  her  all 
her  bad  qualities,  right  out. 

Albert.  (Feeling  himself  equal  to  the  task) 
Don't  worry  about  that !  (Rises  and  walks  about) 
I  know  women  love  to  be  told  things  straight  from 
the  shoulder. 

Jacques.  I'm  not  the  man  for  that;  neither  are 
you,  eh? 

Albert.  No? — Jacques,  I'm  deeply  obliged; 
you've  done  me  a  good  turn 

Jacque.     Not  another  word,  Albert- 


Albert.  Would  you  care  to  do  me  one  more 
favor  ? 

Jacques.     (Devotedly)     Anything  you  like ! 

Albert.  Promise  me  you'll  never  let  Henriette 
know  that  you  told  me  this? 

Jacques.     I  promise;  but  why? 

Albert.  You  know,  she  must  understand  that 
this  is  an  integral  part  of  my  character! 


MODESTY  13 

Jacques.    Oh,  you're  going  at  it  strenuously. 

Albert.    I  am. 

Jacques.     Good;  your  decision  honors  you. 

Albert.  Let's  not  have  Henriette  find  us  to- 
gether !  It  might  not  look  well !  Would  you  mind 
disappearing  as  soon  as  possible? 

Jacques.  With  pleasure!  I  have  an  errand  to 
do.    I'll  look  in  again  and  wait  for  the  news 

(Jacques  rises.) 

Albert.     Thanks,  Jacques. 

Jacques.  Au  revoir,  Albert.  (He  goes  out  after 
shaking  hands  cordially  zvith  Albert) 

Henriette.  (Re-entering  as  Albert  assumes  a 
rather  severe  attitude)  How  are  you?  (A  pause) 
Have  you  seen  Jacques? 

Albert.  (With  a  determined  air)  No,  Henri- 
ette, no.    Thank  God ! 

Henriette.     Why  ? 

Albert.  Because  it  pains  me  to  see  men  in  your 
presence  whom  you  care  nothing  for. 

Henriette.  (Delighted)  You  don't  like  that? 
(Sitting  down  on  the  sofa) 

Albert.  No,  I  don't.  And  I'd  like  to  tell 
you- 


Henriette.    About  my  relations  with  Jacques  ? 

Albert.     Oh,  he's  not  the  only  one. 

Henriette.    A  great  many  others,  I  suppose? 

Albert.  (Sits  on  chair  near  sofa)  You  suppose 
correctly,  Madame:  a  great  many. 

Henriette.    Really  ? 

Albert.    You  are  a  coquette. 

Henriette.    You  think  so? 

Albert.    I  am  positive. 

Henriette.  I  suppose  I  displease  you  in  other 
ways,  too? 

Albert.    In  a  great  many  other  ways. 


14  MODESTY 

Henriette.  (Really  delighted)  How  confidently 
you  say  that ! 

Albert.    So  much  the  worse  if  you  don't  like  it ! 

Henriette.  Quite  the  contrary,  my  dear  Albert ; 
you  can't  imagine  how  you  please  me  when  you  talk 
like  that.     It's  perfectly  adorable. 

Albert.  It  makes  very  little  difference  to  me 
whether  I  please  you  or  not.  I  speak  only  accord- 
ing to  my  temperament.  Perhaps  it  is  a  bit  authori- 
tative, but  I  can't  help  that. 

Henriette.     Albert,  you  are  superb. 

Albert.     Oh,  no:  I'm  just  myself. 

Henriette     Oh,  Albert,  if  you ! 

Albert.  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  what  you 
were  about  to  say,  but  I'll  guarantee  that  there's  not 
a  more  inflexible  temper  than  mine  in  Paris. 

Henriette.  I  can  easily  believe  it.  {A  pause) 
Now  tell  me  in  what  way  you  think  I'm  coquettish. 
(Sitting  on  the  edge  of  sofa  in  an  interested  attitude. 
Albert  takes  out  a  cigarette,  lights  and  smokes  it) 

Albert.  That's  easy:  for  instance,  when  you  go 
to  the  theater,  to  a  reception,  to  the  races.  As  soon 
as  you  arrive,  all  the  men  who  know  you  flock  about 
in  dozens ;  and  those  who  don't  know  you  come  to 
be  introduced.  You're  the  talking-stock  of  society. 
Now,  I  should  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  would  tell 
me  to  what  you  attribute  this  notoriety  ? 

Henriette.  (Modestly)  Well,  I  should  at- 
tribute it  to  the  fact  that  I  am — agreeable,  and 
pleasant 

Albert.  There  are  many  women  no  less  agree- 
able. 

Henriette.  (Summing  up  all  her  modesty  to 
reply)     You  force  me  to  recognize  the  fact! 

Albert.  And  I  know  many  women  fully  as 
pleasant  as  you  who  don't  flaunt  themselves  about ; 
they  preserve  some  semblance  of  dignity,  a  certain 


MODESTY  IS 

air  of  aloof  distinction  that  it  would  do  you  no  harm 
to  acquire. 

Henrietie.  (With  a  gratitude  that  is  conscious 
of  its  bounds)  Thanks,  thanks  so  much.  (Drazv- 
ing  back  to  a  corner  of  the  sofa)  I  am  deeply 
obliged  to  you 

Albert.     Not  at  all.     (Aside)     Good! 

Henriette.  In  the  future,  I  shall  try  to  behave 
more  decorously. 

Albert.     Another  thing 

Henriette.  (The  first  signs  of  impatience  begin 
to  appear)     What?    Another  thing  to  criticize? 

Albert.  A  thousand!  (Settling  himself  more 
comfortably  in  his  chair) 

Henriette.    Well,  hurry ! 

Albert.  You  really  must  rid  yourself  of  your 
excessive  and  ridiculous  school-girl  sentimentality. 

Henriette.  I  wonder  exactly  on  what  you  base 
your  statement?  Would  you  oblige  me  so  far  as  to 
explain  that? 

Albert.  With  pleasure.  I  remember  one  day  in 
the  country  you  were  in  tears  because  a  poor  little 
mouse  had  fallen  into  the  claws  of  a  wretched  cat; 
two  minutes  later,  you  were  sobbing  because  the 
poor  cat  choked  in  swallowing  the  zvretched  little 
mouse. 

Henriette.  That  was  only  my  kindness  to  dumb 
animals.  I  never  thought  it  was  wrong  to  be  kind 
to  dumb  animals !  (She  is  about  to  rise,  when 
Albert  stops  her  with  a  gesture) 

Albert.  That  would  be  of  little  importance,  if 
it  weren't  that  you  were  of  so  contradictory  a  nature 
that  you  engage  in  the  emptiest,  most  frivolous  con- 
versations, the  most 

Henriette.  (Slightly  disdainful)  Ah,  you  are 
going  too  far !  You  make  me  question  your  power 
of  hisight.  I  am  interested  only  in  noble  and  high 
things 


i6  MODESTY 

Albert.  And  yet,  as  soon  as  the  conversation 
takes  a  serious  turn,  it's  appalling  to  see  you :  you 
yawn  continually  and  look  bored  to  extinction. 

Henriette     There  you  are  right — partly. 

Albert.    You  see? 

Henriette.  {Sharp  and  even  antagonistic) 
Yes,  I  have  the  unfortunate  ability  to  understand 
things  before  people  have  finished  explaining  them: 
I  understand  everything  too  soon.  While  the  others 
are  waiting  for  the  explanation,  I  can't  wait,  and  I 
just  fly  on  miles  ahead 

Albert.  Hm — that  sounds  probable !  I  shan't 
say  anything  more  about  it  just  now.  But  while 
I'm  on  the  subject,  I  have  more  than  once  noticed 
that  you  are  guilty  of  the  worst  vice  woman  ever 
possessed ! 

Henriette.    What,  if  you  please? 

Albert.     Vanity. 

Henriette     I,  vain?    Oh,  you're  going  too  far! 

Albert.  {Unruffled)  Not  a  word!  Every 
time  I  tell  you  of  a  fault,  you  twist  it  round  to  your 
advantage.  Whereas,  you  are  really  worse  than  I 
have  painted  you,  you  are 

Henriette.  {Rising  and  gathering  her  skirts 
about  her  with  virtuous  indignation)  You  are 
rude,  Monsieur!  I  suppose  you  would  find  fault 
with  me  if  I  considered  myself  more  polite  than  the 
person  whom  I  have  the  honor  to  address? 

Albert.  I  hope,  Mademoiselle,  you  do  not  in- 
tend that  remark  as  personal? 

Henriette.  I  certainly  do.  {She  crosses  to  the 
other  side  of  the  stage,  and  sits  down.  Albert  rises 
and  goes  to  her) 

Albert.     Henriette !     No !     {Laughing)     I  see ! 

Henriette.    What  do  you  mean? 

Albert.  You  can't  deceive  me  by  pretending 
to  be  angry.    You  wanted  to  see  whether  I  could 


MODESTY  17 

withstand  your  temper.  Let  us  now  proceed  to  the 
next  chapter:  your  manner  of  dressing. 

Henriette.  (Now  really  outraged)  My  manner 
of  dressing i^  You  dare!  (Henriette  crosses 
down-stage  left,  Albert  following  her) 

Albert.    Yes,  that  will  be  enough  for  to-day 

Henriette.  And  then  you'll  begin  again  to- 
morrow ! 

Albert.    Yes. 

Henriette.  Do  you  think  for  one  minute  that 
I'll  go  on  listening  to  you  while  you  insult  me  to 
my  face?  You  are  the  vain  one,  to  think  you  can 
come  here  and  insult  a  woman!  Yon  are  the 
frivolous  one,  you  are  the 

Albert.  {Slightly  perturbed)  Be  careful  what 
you  are  saying ! 

Henriette.  I'll  take  care  of  that.  Let  me  tell 
you  that  you  are  a  detestable  cynic.  You  are  dis- 
gustingly personal ;  always  dwelling  on  details,  on 
the  least 

Albert.  Which  is  as  much  as  calling  me  a  block- 
head ? 

Henriette.  Just  about.  You  would  be  com- 
pletely so,  if  you  didn't  read  your  morning  paper 
regularly;  so  regularly  that  I  know  in  advance  ex- 
actly what  you  are  going  to  say  to  me  during  the 
day. 

Albert.    Why  not  call  me  a  parrot  ? 

Henriette.  That  would  compliment  j^ou,  for 
you  don't  speak  as  well  as  a  parrot :  a  parrot's  mem- 
ory never  gets  clouded,  a  parrot  has  at  least  the  com- 
mon politeness  to 

Albert.  {^Between  his  teeth)  This  is  going  too 
far !  I  wonder  how  you  endured  me  so  long  if  you 
thought  me  such  a  fool ! 

Henriette.     I  thought  you  harmless. 

Albert.  Are  you  aware  that  you  have  wounded 
me  cruelly? 


i8  MODESTY 

Henriette.  You  have  wounded  me.  Thank 
Heaven,  though,  we  had  this  discussion!  Now  I'll 
know  how  to  conduct  myself  toward  you  in  the 
future. 

Albert.  Thank  Heaven  for  the  same  thing!  It 
was  high  time,  too.  I  grieve  to  think  that  only  last 
night  I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  you  to 
be  my  wife ! 

Henriette,  My  dear  friend,  if  you  ever  do  so, 
I  shall  show  you  the  door  immediately. 

{Enter  Jacques  hurriedly.    Henriette  runs  to  him 
for  sympathy.) 

Jacques.  What's  all  this  noise?  What's  the 
matter  ? 

Henriette.  Oh,  Jacques,  I'm  so  glad  you've 
come  I 

Albert.  Glad  you  came  when  you  did ;  you  put 
an  end  to  our  pleasant  little  tete-a-tete. 

Jacques.     But  what's  happened? 

Henriette.    Well,  Monsieur  here 


Albert.     No,  it  was  Mademoiselle  who- 


( Henriette  and  Albert  each  take  one  of  Jacques' 
arms,  and  bring  him  down  center.  His  atten- 
tion is  constantly  shifting  from  one  to  the 
other,  as  they  address  him  in  turn.) 

Henriette.     Just  think,  Jacques- 


Albert.    Jacques,  she  had  the  audacity  to- 


Henriette.    Stop  !    I'm  going  to  tell  him  first ! 

Jacques.  You're  both  too  excited  to  explain  any- 
t^iing     Albert,  you  take  a  little  stroll  and  cool  off. 

Albert.  (Retreating  toward  the  door) 
Charmed ! 

Henriette     Then  I  can  draw  a  free  breath. 

Jacques.  (To  Albert)  I'll  arrange  things 
while  you're  away. 


MODESTY  19 

Albert.     (To  them  both)     I  won't  give  in. 

Henriette.     Neither  will  I. 

Jacques.     Tut,  tut! 

Albert.     Good-day,  Mademoiselle. 

Henriette.    Good-day. 

Jacques.     Good-day,  Albert. 

(Albert  goes  out.) 

Henriette     Thank  goodness,  we're  rid  of  him! 

Jacques.  (Sympathetically)  Tell  me  all  about 
it.* 

Henriette.  (Sits  down  on  sofa,  inviting 
Jacques  by  a  gesture  to  do  the  same.  He  sits  be- 
side her)  That  man  invented  the  most  abominable 
things  about  me;  even  criticized  me  to  my  face! 

Jacques.    He  did! 

Henriette.  It  was  so  ridiculous — it  makes  me 
ill  to  think  about  it. 

Jacques.  My  dear  Henriette,  don't  think  about 
it.  Albert  must  have  behaved  like  a  brute  to  make 
you  so  angry. 

Henriette.  Yes,  don't  you  think  so?  You 
think  I'm  right? 

Jacques.     (Loyally)     Of  course  I  do. 

Henriette.  (At  ease  once  more)  You  en- 
courage me,  Jacques. 

Jacques.  When  I  saw  you  were  angry,  I  said  to 
myself  at  once :  "  Henriette  is  right." 

Henriette.    Really,  did  you? 

Jacques.  I  said  it  because  I  knew  you  were  by 
nature  peace-loving  and  considerate 

Henriette.  (With  profound  conviction)  Well, 
I  think  that's  the  least  that  can  be  said  of  me. 

Jacques.  At  least,  you  are  always  tactful,  you 
always 

Henriette.     You  know  me,  Jacques ! 

Jacques.     I  flatter  myself!     I  felt  instinctively 


20  MODESTY 

that  you  could  not  be  wrong.  You  have  always  been 
so  admirably  poised,  so  polite  on  all  occasions. 

Henrietie.  (With  perfect  simplicity)  Frankly, 
now,  do  I  ever  lose  my  temper  with  you? 

Jacques.  (In  good  faith)  Never.  With  me  you 
are  always  patient,  gracious,  modest 

Henriette  But  I  remember,  a  little  while  ago,  I 
made  you  suffer! 

Jacques.    Yes,  1  was  unhappy.    But  now 

Henrietts.  It  was  all  my  fault.  You  under- 
stand me;  >'ou  are  truly  a  friend. 

Jacques.  Nothing  more?  (Rising,  but  stand- 
ing near  her.  Henriette  blushingly  looks  down 
at  her  shoe) 

Henriette.     Oh ! 

Jacques.  Prove  to  me  that  you  mean  that  sin- 
cerely. 

Henrietta.    What  must  I  do? 

Jacques.  Place  your  future  in  my  hands :  marry 
me. 

Henriette.  (With  downcast  eyes)  I  was  just 
thinking  about  it. 

Jacques.    .(About  to  embrace  her)    Ah! 

Henrietie.  Wait!  (Complete  metamorphosis. 
Her  joy  is  still  present,  but  it  has  taken  on  a  playful, 
serio-comic  aspect.    Rises  and  puts  her  hand  in  his) 

Jacques.    Why  do  you  hesitate  ? 

Henrietts.  Jacques,  do  you  remember  what  I 
told  you  not  long  ago? 

Jacques.    Yes. 

Henriette.  In  spite  of  that,  are  you  quite  sure 
that  I  am  not  vain — and  coquettish? 

Jacques.    I  am  certain  of  it! 

Henriette.  You  are  also  firmly  resolved  to  be 
my  moral  guide,  such  a  guide  as  I  spoke  to  you 
about  ? 

Jacques.     (Bravely)     I  am. 

Henriette     I  make  one  condition. 


MODESTY  21 

Jacques.     Name  it. 
Henriette.    On  your  word  of  honor? 
Jacques.    On  my  word  of  honor. 
Henriette.    Will  you  swear  to  tell  me,  withou 
reserve,  every  time  you  find  me  at  fault  ?    Swear. 
Jacques.    I  swear. 

Henriette,    Then  you  have  my  promise. 
J.\CQUES.     (As  they  embrace)     Dearest! 

Curtain 


THE  WORLD'S  BESiT  PLAYS 

BY  CELEBRATED  EUROPEAN  AUTHORS 


A    NEW    SERIES     OP    AMATEUR    PLAYS     BY    THE    BEST 
AUTHORS,     ANCIENT      AND      MODERN,     ESPECIALLY 
TRANSLATED    WITH    HISTORICAL    NOTES,    SUG- 
GESTIONS   FOR    STAGING,    Etc.,    FOR    THE 
USE     OF     SCHOOLS,     COLLEGES,     AND 
DRAMATIC     CLUBS 

BARRETT  H.  CLARK 
General  Editor 

Author  of  '*  The  Continental  Drama  of  To-day,"  "  Contempo- 
rary    French     Dramatists,"     translator     and     editor     of 
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With  the  immensely  Increased  demand  for  new  plays  for 
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PLAYS   NOW  READY 

The  Romancers.  A  comedy  In  three  acts.  By  Edmond 
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The  Twins.  By  Plautus.  7  males,  2  females.  A  Latin  farce, 
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Brignol  and  His  Daughter.  By  Alfred  Capus.  5  males,  4 
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Choosinsr  a  Career.  By  G.  A.  de  Caillavet.  Written  by  one 
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French  Without  a  Master.  By  Tristan  Bernard.  5  males, 
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Panurge's  Sheep.  A  comedy  in  one  act.  By  Mellhac  and 
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The  Law-Suit  (Der  Prozess).  A  comedy  in  one  act.  By 
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1   man.     Price  25  cents. 

The  Sicilian  (Le  Sicilien).  A  farce  in  two  acts.  By 
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play  is  laid  in  Sicily,  and  has  to  do  with  the  capture  of 
a  beautiful  Greek  slave  from  her  selfish  and  tyrannical 
master.     4  men,  3  women.     Price  25  cents. 

Doctor  I.ove  (L'Amour  Medicin).  a  farce  in  three  acts  by 
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The  Affected  Young  Ladies  (Les  Precieuses  ridicules).  A 
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Crainquebillc.     A  play  in  three  scenes.     By  Anatole  France. 
A  delightful   series  of  pictures  of  Parisian  street  life,  by 
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century  French  drama.  It  is  replete  with  wit  and  comic 
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its  freshness  and  charm.     Price  25  cents. 

A  Marriage  Proposal.  By  Anton  TchekofC.  2  males,  1 
female.  A  comedy  in  one  act,  by  one  of  the  greatest  of 
modern  Russian  writers.  This  little  farce  is  very  popular 
in  Russia,  and  satirizes  the  people  of  that  country  in 
an  amusing  manner.     Price  25  cents. 

The  Green  Coat.  By  Alfred  de  Musset  and  Emile  Augier. 
S  males,  1  female.  A  slight  and  comic  one-act  character 
sketch  of  the  life  of  Bohemian  artists  in  Paris,  written  by 
one  of  France's  greatest  poets  and  one  of  her  best-known 
dramatists.     Price   25   cents. 

The  "Wager.  By  Giuseppe  Giacosa.  4  males,  1  female.  This 
one  act  poetic  comedy,  written  by  the  most  celebrated 
dramatist  of  modern  Italy,  was  the  author's  first  work. 
It  treats  of  a  wager  made  by  a  proud  young  page,  who 
risks  his  life  on  the  outcome  of  a  game  of  chess.  Price 
25  cents. 

Phormio.  A  Latin  comedy.  By  Terence.  11  males,  2  females. 
An  up-to-date  version  of  the  famous  comedy.  One  of  the 
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Phormio,  the  parasite-villain  who  causes  the  numerous 
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sketch  by  a  well-known  French  poet  and  dramatist. 
Played  with  success  at  the  Comedie  Francaise.  Price  25 
cents. 

The  Boor.  By  Anton  Tchekoff.  2  males,  1  female.  A  well- 
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is  concerned  with  Russian  characters,  and  portrays  with 
masterly  skill  the  comic  side  of  country  life.  Price  25 
cents. 

The  Black  Pearl.  By  Victorien  Sardou.  7  males,  3  females. 
One  of  Sardou's  most  famous  comedies  of  intrigue.  In 
three  acts,  A  house  has,  it  is  thought,  been  robbed.  But 
through  skilful  investigation  it  is  found  that  the  havoc 
wrought  has  been  done  by  lightning.     Price  25  cents. 

Charming  Leandre.  By  Theodore  de  Banville.  2  males,  1 
female.  In  one  act.  The  author  of  "  Gringoire "  is  here 
seen  in  a  poetic  vein,  yet  the  Frenchman's  innate  sense  of 
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Moliere.     Price  25  cents. 

The  Post-Script.  By  Emile  Augier.  1  male.  2  females. 
Of  this  one-act  comedy  Professor  Brander  Matthews 
writes:  "...  one  of  the  brightest  and  most  brilliant 
little  one-act  comedies  in  any  language,  and  to  be  warmly 
recommended  to  American  readers."     Price  25  cents. 


14  DAY  USE 

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